


If Only

by DizzyTango



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, But mostly fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hoseok and Kihyun work for a fashion magazine, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, Not important but a cute fact, Okay almost all fluff, hoseok is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyTango/pseuds/DizzyTango
Summary: He shouldn't have left the letter.Why had he left the damn letter?





	If Only

**Author's Note:**

> This is so cheesy and cliche and unlike anything I usually write and I love it.
> 
> I love Kiho.
> 
> I love love.
> 
> Enjoy~

Hoseok wears his heart on his sleeve.  
  
It’s a horrible habit, he knows it is. No matter how many times he tries to talk himself out of it, tries to convince himself to close off, be more private, steel himself to the world, he can never actually manage to do it. Minhyuk tells him it’s one of his best qualities, that it makes him impossibly warm, but more often than not it just leaves him feeling impossibly vulnerable.  
  
More often than not, it just leads to him being hurt.  
  
This feels like yet another one of those times.  
  
Hoseok shakes the sleeve of his coat down from where he has it tucked up over his hand, tilting the face of his watch into the streetlight above his head. It's past 11:30 and he's sitting alone in Hangang Park feeling not just cold, but stupid as well.  
  
He shouldn't have left the letter.  
  
_Why_ had he left the damn letter?  
  
It had been Minhyuk’s idea initially. The other man had watched Hoseok quietly for weeks, taking quiet note at how distant he looked, how absorbed in the depth of lovesickness.  
  
_Write him,_ Minhyuk had said simply, regarding Hoseok with scrutiny.  
  
__Even if you never give it to him, write to him. Tell him.  
  
Hoseok had thought about it for days, going as far as buying a new notebook from the corner store and leaving it on his kitchen countertop, staring at it for a few days more before he had even found the courage to open it. He had spent hours writing and rewriting what he had wanted to say, small balls of scrap paper filling and overflowing the little trash can by his desk at home. For someone with so many things to say, it felt oddly impossible to get any of them down. There had just been so many words stuffed into him, so many things he was aching to say that he had found himself unable to say much of anything at all. It was as if the things he felt, the things he had wanted to say, swam hot in his bloodstream, circulated from head to toe, constant. He had spent so many days feeling absolutely suffocated beneath the weight of all the things he'd held back, and while he had (in the end) felt relief and a sense of that weight lightening when he’d written the letter, he hadn’t really intended to ever leave it.  
  
Until he did.  
  
Every moment since he had slipped it into that bag at work has left him feeling a little more empty, as if he hadn’t written away just the words he needed off his chest, but absolutely everything.  
  
He wonders how much it will hurt this time, bearing his heart and having the gesture thrown back into his face.  
  
He’s always been one to feel very deeply, quick to throw himself fully into something, give into his emotions and relinquish his heart in whichever direction its pulled.  
  
He’s also always been one to hurt just as deeply in the wreckage that follows.  
  
Hoseok feels his shoulders sag, and tenses his fingers, trying to will some kind of warmth into them. He’s been sitting on the same bench for hours, watching the way the late fall wind sends leaves scattering past his feet. A blue sky had flushed orange and With the setting sun had gone the crowds, anyone with sense opting to escape the biting November night.  
  
In this instance, Hoseok doesn’t count himself amongst those with sense. He just has hope.  
  
But even that is beginning to fade.  
  
At the sound of feet on the pavement and he looks up, eyes widening, but his lips fall into a small frown as he sees its just a jogger passing by. They eclipse into the shadows between street lamps and vanish from his world, leaving him alone once more.  
  
And it’s almost funny, in a really dark way. Funny he would find himself here again, waiting on the heart of another when his feels so impossibly full. Waiting for an ‘okay’ to love.  
  
Being met with nothing.  
  
“...You have work tomorrow, Hoseok,” he chides quietly to himself, rolling his neck before he he heaves himself to his feet. He scuffs the toe of his boot against the concrete, casts a glance at the bench, and is suddenly reminded of warmer, fonder times. Times full of sunlight, uncomplicated, times that he now finds himself wondering if he’ll ever see again. It’s possible he’s messed everything up and in retrospect, he finds himself feeling selfish. It’s possible he’s taken a good thing, looked too deeply, and destroyed it completely in the attempt to morph it into something else.  
  
He slips his phone from his pocket, finds it dead.  
  
He gives up.  
  
He goes to step away, venture back home through the biting night when a voice stops him, the sound of feet clattering against the pavement impossibly loud as they break the silence. He freezes, eyes closing, takes a stuttering breath as he tries to ground himself. He turns.  
  
Kihyun is standing just feet away, bent at the waist, breathing heavily, breath snaking clouds through the frozen air. He’s shaking his head as his tries to find his breath and looks up at Hoseok, holds up one finger in a gesture for the other man to give him a moment. He looks very small, dwarfed in a particularly large down coat, hands shoved deep into its pockets. Even in the cold, his bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat and Hoseok finds himself wondering how exactly far he ran.  
  
“Jooheon,” Kihyun tries to wheeze and Hoseok’s eyebrow raises at the mention of their coworker. It’s the last thing he’d expected to hear come out of his mouth.  
  
“Jooheon? What about-”  
  
“ _You put it in Jooheon’s bag,_ ” Kihyun cuts him off, speaking so quickly that the words jumble together and it takes Hoseok a second to pry them apart and reassemble them in his mind. Kihyun is coughing weakly but seems to finally be finding his composure. His cheeks are flushed, both from running and the cold, and it takes everything Hoseok has not to step forward, take his face into the warmth of his hands.  
  
“...What?”  
  
“ _The letter_ ,” Kihyun sounds a bit exasperated, looking up at Hoseok with sharp eyes. Finally he’s sounding a bit more like himself, though he looks like he might keel over at any given second. Cold explodes through Hoseok’s veins as he puts two and two together, thinks back to earlier when he had left the office, stopped at Kihyun’s station and slipped the envelope into the bag sitting on the desktop. Now that he thought about it, it was one he’d never seen Kihyun carry before-  
  
“Jooheon was using my computer,” Kihyun elaborates, finally straightening, “He left his things at my desk. You put the letter in his bag.”  
  
Kihyun’s hands slide from his pockets and one is clutching what Hoseok recognizes to be the letter he had, just hours previously, left for Kihyun. It’s crumpled, the neat folds still clear, but it’s obvious Kihyun had shoved it in his pocket in a hurry after reading it. It’s very unlike the neat man he knows. There’s something about seeing it, seeing it open, seeing it with _Kihyun_ that fills him with dread, head spinning a bit before he manages to find his composure.  
  
“Oh,” is all Hoseok manages and isn’t sure where to go with that. It’s as if he had taken every single word he had, every word he will ever had, and put it on that paper. Suddenly he’s grasping into an abyss in his mind, coming back with nothing.  
  
Kihyun seems mildly put off by the lack of feedback, but not upset.  
  
“He just brought it to me. At my house.”  
  
Hoseok blinks at him.  
  
“...So I couldn’t be here at eight, like you asked in the letter” Kihyun adds, clearly waiting for something to click in his mind and suddenly Hoseok is reminded of how _late_ it is, how long he’s waited, freezing in the park for someone he hadn’t even truly thought was coming.  
  
Kihyun appears to recognize the understanding in his eyes and softens, breathing out shakily before Hoseok catches the faintest traces of a soft smile.  
  
“But I’m here now.”  
  
He stares at Kihyun and as he takes in his flushed skin, tangled hair, he’s oddly taken back in time to the first day he’d met him. If he were to close his eyes, he’d be able to see it perfectly: the cubicle at the end of their section that had been empty for months had one day suddenly been filled by a new photographer with sharp features and soft brown hair and a habit for nibbling on the end of his stylus when he edited his photos. Hoseok had been coming back from coffee with Jooheon, had frozen, found himself staring, and Kihyun had slowly looked up, met his eyes over the wire rim of his glasses. Jooheon had simply looked between the two, smiled, walloped Hoseok on the back in a friendly manner. Hoseok had barely even noticed, his eyes had never left the photographer and he could remember the thrill it gave him when Kihyun had echoed his name back when Jooheon introduced him, tasting it on his tongue.  
  
It was as if Hoseok was hearing his own name for the first time, truly hearing it.  
  
Funny enough, if asked to choose the instant he fell in love with Kihyun, he would choose the same moment.  
  
If asked to choose the moment he realized Kihyun loved him back, it would be this one.  
  
“ _You are_ ,” Hoseok finds himself saying shakily, surprised by how his voice shakes. He finds the sound of disbelief knitted deep into his own words and finds himself trying again.  
  
“...You’re here.”  
  
His eyes find the letter in Kihyun’s hand again, finds the way the paper softly shakes in his grasp. He can’t seem to figure out whether it’s the cold or nerves but all he knows is that Kihyun has it, has read it, is _here_ and as much as his brain wants to catastrophize, wants to find a way to take this moment and tear it to shreds, he can’t. Because even though he sees fear in Kihyun’s eyes, uncertainty, it’s impossible to mistake the warmth that overpowers them both.  
  
“I meant everything I said in it,” Hoseok says quietly, not knowing if it’s a step in the right direction or not. He sees Kihyun’s fingers tighten on the paper, new creases etching into it as he runs his teeth over his lower lip, nodding softly. He breathes out shakily and this time, it’s not exertion.  
  
Kihyun takes a step towards him and then another, putting them within arms reach.  
  
“I’d hoped so,” he confides, eyes going from Hoseok to the letter and back again.  
  
Were he any other person receiving any other reaction, Hoseok might have had half a mind to be embarrassed. Thinking back, he can’t truly _remember_ what he had written in the letter, just that every character on the page had been an attempt at laying his soul bare, trying to put things that could never truly be phrased into words. Because for all of the words that had been coursing through his veins at the very thought of Kihyun, it was as if they fell flat and clumsy the second his pen touched the page.  
  
All he knew was that Kihyun brought an undeniable feeling of closure to his life, a kind of cozy magnetism that drew him like a moth to a flame. He’d been a bit perplexed by him at first, at what seemed like an almost cold, strict exterior. And then one day in the midst of a work project, Kihyun had smiled at him so genuinely and so effortlessly and Hoseok was sure he hadn’t even breathed the same way since that moment.  
  
The breathlessness he felt then had felt very much like what he is feeling now because Kihyun looks down at the letter in his hand one more time before his eyes flicker to Hoseok and when he smiles again, it’s as if the sun never set.  
  
Hoseok can’t hold himself back, gives him no time to think. He steps forward, pulling a surprised Kihyun into his arms. His fingers skirt the nylon of his overcoat, fingers twitching a bit at how cold the fabric is in the windy night, but the second he pulls Kihyun close, he finds himself lost to the overwhelming warmth of the other man. The letter in Kihyun’s hand falls, hitting the concrete with a soft slap.  
  
Hoseok hesitates then as he meets Kihyun’s eyes, hesitates at the shock he sees there, shock that hangs stagnant for a moment before softening, deepening. He nods, the gesture so small it would be imperceivable if not for the fact Kihyun has suddenly become his whole world, everything he feels and sees beginning and ending in his arms. The park is gone, the cold is gone, all previous traces of fear he had felt just minutes ago evaporating in the warmth of another.  
  
Initially it’s just their noses that touch, cold skin brushing equally cold skin and it’s Kihyun, not Hoseok, that nuzzles forward, bringing their lips together.  
  
If someone were to one day ask Hoseok for the moment where he realized that it maybe wasn’t truly a bad thing to be so open, to wear his heart so proudly, he would choose this one.  
  
It seems otherworldly to feel so at home with another person, to feel so effortless and complete, but Kihyun is that and more. His hands skim Hoseok’s hips beneath the down of his coat, fingers tangling with one another as his arms encircle his waist, bringing them flush together.  
  
And all because of a letter he hadn’t even wanted to write.  
  
All because he of words he had never expected himself to be able to say.  
  
The bite of darkness seems to bleed away from them, Hoseok’s fingers tightening in Kihyun’s coat, trying to bring him impossibly closer. He nips at his lower lip and his mind seems to explode with fireworks. He feels so happy, so fulfilled and finds himself laughing softly, leading Kihyun to break away from the kiss in surprise. Their faces are still close as he examines Hoseok, catches sight of his smile, and smiles breathlessly in return.  
  
Hoseok’s hand moves up and gently cradles Kihyun’s head, holds him close as Kihyun hesitates and then noses his way to Hoseok’s neck, a flare of heat radiating through his sweater as Kihyun breathes out, content.  
  
“I couldn’t find the bench,” Kihyun mutters, sounds almost apologetic, the faint movement of his lips ghosting against the weave of Hoseok’s sweater. He laughs softly.  
  
“It looks so different here than it does during the day.”  
  
Suddenly the sunlit lunches they had held here together on their breaks dim in Hoseok’s mind, somehow pale in the wake of this particular night. He glances to the right, to the bench, and in his mindseye he can envision them sharing hurried work lunches together, sitting so close yet still politely apart. He can see Kihyun with his laptop, the way he chews at his lip thoughtfully as he adjusts the levels of photographs, putting the finishing touches on pieces due for press at the end of the day. He can see himself stealing glances over the top of his iPad as he checks his work emails, the way he admires how the sunlight that filters through the branches above their head illuminates the soft waves of Kihyun’s hair.  
  
He can see himself wanting what he now has.  
  
“It does,” Hoseok echoes softly, arms tightening around Kihyun as if letting him go risks losing him.  
  
Silence, but this time Hoseok can find comfort in it. Kihyun leans against him, fingers playing at the back of his sweater, breath soft and even against his neck.  
  
“What took you so long, anyway?” Kihyun mutters and Hoseok almost misses it but knows he never could. He can hear the smile in his voice and shivers, arms tightening once more around him before he steps back, aiming to look Kihyun in the eye. He looks a tad bit embarrassed, hands slipping away from Hoseok, finding his pockets again.  
  
“I had a little trouble finding the words,” he admits a bit sheepishly, rewarding Kihyun’s teasing with a legitimate answer. Kihyun seems a bit taken aback at that but grins nonetheless. It’s then he seems to notice, bends down and scoops it up. He fans it out, takes a moment to fold it carefully again.  
  
Suddenly Hoseok’s mind goes back to all of those hours spent writing, to all the drafts, to all the things he had thought of saying, all the things he _had_ said and he’s reaching for the letter, infinitely curious as to what had actually made it in. He’s also equally embarrassed at the prospect of what could have made the cut.  
  
Kihyun holds it at arm’s length, keeping it away from him before he steps away, folds the letter neatly, and slides it into his pocket. For added effect, he zips it, giving Hoseok a pointed look.  
  
“You gave it to me,” he says simply, watching Hoseok with a playful glimmer to his eyes, “It’s mine.”  
  
It occurs to Hoseok that isn’t just he himself that feels so weightless in the wake of being brought together with Kihyun. Kihyun is dazzling, all of the stress of impending work deadlines that had been weighing them both gone. When he smiles, it reaches his eyes and he feels his heart soften at the way they crinkle up.  
  
“I just want to read it,” Hoseok can’t help but pout, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes Kihyun’s pocket. Kihyun seems to notice this and catches on, side stepping a bit so he puts the pocket as far from Hoseok as possible.  
  
Easy.  
  
Effortless.  
  
The wind rustles past, sending leaves tumbling around their feet and Hoseok suddenly pounces at Kihyun, who easily dodges out of the way, laugh trailing behind him like music lost on the breeze. Hoseok tries again and is rewarded with Kihyun’s warmth this time, arms finding him easily.  
  
“I can tell you what it says,” Kihyun laughs and Hoseok laughs and it’s like everything is right with the world. Kihyun’s arms find their way around him and he meets Hoseok’s eyes.  
  
“You said you loved me,” he says and it’s as if the words burst from his chest, so infinitely excited that he can’t keep them down. Hearing the word ‘love’ from Kihyun’s mouth is dizzying and Hoseok leans in, foreheads grazing.  
  
It had occurred to him at the last moment, the moment before he had slipped the envelope into the bag on Kihyun’s desk (the bag he now embarrassingly knew to be the _wrong one_ ) why the letter in all its iterations had felt so incomplete. It had been the one thing that had left him hesitating to present it, lost at how many things felt left unsaid even in the wake of so many words. It had occurred to him that he had said so much, but hadn’t actually said what mattered most. He had uncapped a pen from the cup shoved in the corner by the monitor, unfolded the pages, and beneath his signature he had scrawled three words.  
  
__I love you.  
  
“I did,” Hoseok breathes.  
  
“Do I have to wait and write a letter to respond?” Kihyun teases and Hoseok shakes his head.  
  
“Of course not,” he manages, feeling like his heart will explode from his chest at any moment. Kihyun leans back, meets his eyes again, looks so assured in what he’s about to say that Hoseok’s not entirely sure he can handle it.  
  
“I love you, too,” Kihyun responds simply and Hoseok kisses him again, infinitely warm even in the depth of early winter.  
  
Maybe it wasn’t so bad, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe it makes him who he is. Maybe his openness was what makes him so willing to love.  
  
Maybe his openness is what makes Kihyun so eager to love him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only soft thing I'll ever write. The stress of writing and posting it almost killed me. Now back to our regularly scheduled angst...
> 
> Please come scream over Monsta X with me on[ my Twitter](https://twitter.com/neonnightlites) ! I get lonely. ;n;


End file.
